a natural, a
defensible, satisfaction to hear of:--not wishing it--poor woman!--but
pardonably, before man and all the angels, wishing, praying for the
beloved one to enter into her earthly peace by the agency of the other's
exit into her heavenly.

Fenellan and Colney came together, and said a word apiece of their
friend.

'In his element! The dear old boy has the look of a goldfish, king of his
globe.'

'The dear old boy has to me the look of a pot on the fire, with a loose
lid.'

I may have the summons from Themison to-morrow, Victor thought. The
success of the day, was a wine that rocked the soberest of thoughts. For,
strange to confess, ever since the fall on London Bridge, his heart,
influenced in some degree by Nataly's depression perhaps, had been
shadowed by doubts of his infallible instinct for success. Here, at a
stroke, and before entering the house, he had the whole neighbourhood
about him: he could feel that he and Nataly stood in the minds of the
worthy people variously with the brightness if not with the warmth
distinguishable in the bosom of Beaves Urmsing--the idea of whom gave
Lakelands an immediate hearth-glow.

Armandine was thirteen minutes, by his watch, behind the time she had
named. Small blame to her. He excused her to Lady Carmine, Lady Swanage,
Lady Blachington, Mrs. Fanning, Sir Abraham Quatley, Mr. Danny (of Bacon
fame) and the rest of the group surrounding Nataly on the mound leftward
of the white terraces descending to the lake; where she stood beating her
foot fretfully at the word brought by Nesta, that Dartrey Fenellan had
departed. It was her sunshine departed. But she went through her task of
conversing amiably. Colney, for a wonder, consented to be useful in
assisting Fenellan to relate stories of French Cooks; which were, like
the Royal Hanoverian oyster, of an age for offering acceptable flavour to
English hearers. Nesta drew her mother's attention to Priscilla Graves
and Skepsey; the latter bending head and assenting. Nataly spoke of the
charm of Priscilla's voice that day, in her duet with the Rev. Septimus.
Mr. Pempton looked; he saw that Priscilla was proselytizing. She was
perfection to him but for one blotting thing. With grief on his eyelids,
he said to Nataly or to himself: 'Meat!'

'Dear friend, don't ride your hobby over us,' she replied.

'But it's with that object they mount it,' said Victor.

The greater ladies of the assembly were quite ready to accuse the